A small voice in the back of head told her that waiting, doing nothing, was just as much picking a side as if she'd done something, anything. But for the first time in her life Hermione didn't know her own mind. So she chose to do nothing, to let events unfold as if she didn't know what was coming.

But she did, and she didn't know what she thought of that, what she should think of it; doing nothing had never been so tiring.

Fortunately the other Gryffindors were just as oblivious as always; no one noticed how distracted she had been. Her class work continued as it always had, her homework was completed early as usual. But she wasn't paying as much attention to those around her as she usually did.

She'd stopped going to detentions, or dark magic studies, or whatever it was; not feeling up to facing her Defense Professor just yet. Eventually she had to though. The next defense class was just three days after she'd confronted him with her suspicions, and learned the truth of what was to come.

He'd watched her as she entered the class and taken her usual seat. She'd kept her head down, not looking at him, wanting more time. But he'd called her out on not paying attention in class; and given her a detention. At the time, she'd accepted it without comment.

Now though, she found herself back in the position she'd been in months ago, uncomfortable and unsure as she made her way to the Defense classroom for detention. She took a few moments outside the door to calm herself, and attempt to put an emotionless look on; which lasted till she knocked on the door. Startled, she stood in the door way gaping as the door swung open on her second knock.

"Do come in, Miss Granger." Spoke the familiar voice of her sort-of Professor when she'd been standing there a little too long. "Seal the door," he told her as she stepped into the room. "Thoroughly," he added when she only put a simple locking charm on it.

She looked at him for a moment, then turned back to the door and piled just about everything she knew on. Which was quite a bit: If anyone did manage to get into the room it was doubtful that they'd bring all of their major organs with them. When she turned to walk to her usual seat in front of him, her face was composed again; but with a faint smirk, which he shared.

"Nicely done."

Hermione's smile grew a bit, "thank you." She sat where she usually did, but there were no books this time.

"So I noticed Dumbledore hasn't come stampeding in on me with a herd of Aurors." He mentioned casually as they sat watching each other.

A huff that might have been a laugh in any other circumstances escaped Hermione, but she just sank a little in her seat, and shook her head. The scorch marks on the floor were interesting, she thought to herself.

The minutes passed in silence, but it was Hermione that broke it.

"I don't know why." She finally said without looking up. "I... Last year I would have told," she whispered, and heard him shift in his chair. "He was my friend, or I thought he was. Maybe that was a lie too." She paused for a moment as her eyes flickered about, unseeing, in thought. "But I don't know what side I'm on now, or what side is what. Or even who to believe really. So I'm just not going to get involved. Just let whatever happens happen, as if I'd never known." She took a deep breathe, "And I know that could mean someone dies, but it doesn't bother me like I think it should. He's only a stinking half-bl... urgh." She choked on her words as she looked up.

Sitting in front of her was a younger man than there was a moment ago, with a mop of dirty blonde hair and a faint look of manic amusement on his lightly freckled face.

"Hello," he greeted her.

Hermione settled herself with a deep breathe that verged on a huff.

His smile grew, "The Polyjuice wears off when I'm asleep, of course. I just thought I'd let it happen a little earlier, let you know who you're talking to."

"Some warning would have been nice," she scolded him.

He just laughed.

With the tension broken, the night settled into something surprisingly normal; for a girl being taught the dark arts by a Death Eater disguised as a retired Auror. Hermione ended up reading as usual, while Barty - as he insisted she call him while they were alone - had marked homework, or whatever it was he did.

They'd talked some, a little stiffly at first but it had freed up a bit as the night drew on. He'd left her to her semi-neutral stance of just not getting involved. But smirked at her the whole time. She had left him to think what he might about her decision - or lack of.

Later, as she was just settling down in bed, she heard a faint pop: Then moments later a house elf poked it's head through the curtains.

"Miss, Professor Moody is asking you to come open his door."

Hermione snorted and choked back a laugh, before getting back out of bed.

She had taken to avoiding Harry even more than usual lately, so when she walked into the Great Hall early the next morning for breakfast, she wasn't expecting to see him sitting at the table. He didn't notice her at first, so she just stood there, watching him.

Their eyes met when he turned around and looked at her, and she almost told him - warned him - about the third task, and what would happen. But the urge left her she watched as his brow furrow in a slight frown, and she just sneered at him and went to a seat at the far end of the table.

Hermione picked at her breakfast for a while, not really paying attention to much. She knew that her 'staying out of it' stance was as good as betraying him; at least in this case. But was it really a betrayal? She poured milk into a bowl of porridge, and poked at it; not feeling particularly hungry.

The arrival of the day's mail brought out of her thoughts when an unfamiliar barn owl landed in front of her. The muggle envelope tied to its leg clearly identified the sender without having to open it; her parents. She hadn't spoken to them since they'd dropped her off at Kings Cross in September, and didn't particularly want to now. Her expression hardened as she thought of them, the reminder of the taint on her family name, their attempts to take her magic from her over the summer.

Looking like she was scraping hippogriff dung off the bird's leg, she untied the letter; wondering where they got the owl from. It didn't wait around, flying off as soon as it was free of the envelope. She looked at the now strangely thin paper as she held it away from her between thumb and forefinger, she briefly considered opening it before pulling out her wand. A couple of people nearby jumped as the letter burst into flames. Shaking her head at them, she got up and headed out of the Hall.

"Oh look, it's the mudblood gryffinwhore!" was followed by laughter as she was just about to step out the door.

"Someone would actually pay a mudblood?"

"She probably pays them!"

Pansy and her little pack laughed amongst themselves as Hermione turned toward them. Her face was a perfect mask of calm - hiding the rising anger inside her - as she strode toward the group of girls at the Slytherin table.

"Go away Granger, we don't need the article signed." Pansy told her - to more giggles - as Hermione approached.

She flicked her eyes down to the Daily Prophet in front of them before casting a glare at the blonde boy nearby. "Malfoy," she snapped, and he jumped in his seat. "Deal with them, or I deal with you." She told him as she grabbed the newspaper off the table.

"Draco, don't tell me you've had a go at her too?!" Pansy responded, a hint of disgust tinting her voice.

Hermione's wand was in her hand before she consciously thought of it, but a far too familiar and unwanted voice behind her stopped the curse before it left her lips.

"Miss Granger," came the steely tones of the Potions Master. "Attacking a fellow student? That's 20 points from Gryffindor. As you were on your way out I suggest you leave, now, before I have to endure a detention with you as well." He continued.

Lowering her wand, Hermione flicked a pointed look at Malfoy before turning back to the door and exiting the Great Hall. In the entrance hall, she found a quiet spot to look at the article the Slytherin girls had been reading. She felt her anger boil as she read through the gossip column's insinuations about her, and seemingly half the boys in Hogwarts and Durmstrang.

Seconds later she dropped the now burning newspaper and stormed up the stairs. Seething, she made her way to her quiet tower, seeking something to unload on. With a quick wave of her wand the door slammed shut, and she turned to the little creatures fluttering about in the clear crystal of her Urns.

With swift wand motions and a voice overflowing with anger she watched as first one, then another of the spiders shuddered and shook beneath her Cruciatus. One by one they stopped moving; either dead or beyond feeling. Hermione was just starting to feel her control seeping back as she turned to the last occupied Unseen Urn, Crookshanks' beetle from this morning was inside wildly bashing itself against the tight fitting lid of its prison.

"Crucio!" She growled out again through clenched teeth, but the effect was far from the usual. Moments after the curse hit, the beetle's size swelled, two then four times its original size, and kept growing. Seconds later, having stopped the curse, Hermione was looking with shock at the shaking form of an older witch with curly blonde hair twitching on the floor at her feet.

Hermione stood there shaking with a mix of shock, rage, and fear as the minutes passed; barely noticing her unintended victim muttering to herself as she crawled across the floor.

The older witch was pulling herself to her feet and heading toward the door when Hermione snapped out of her stupor. She could hear Skeeter's tone turning excited as she spoke - seemingly to herself - of the article she'd write, the acclaim she'd get, "The Boy Who Lived's girlfriend, practicing dark magic, this'll be the greatest article of my career!" Hermione heard her say.

"No!" Her response startled Skeeter out of the delusional nattering that Hermione wasn't sure was her normal self, or the after effects of the Cruciatus Curse.

Gripping her wand tighter, Hermione watched as the woman's eyes widened in fear, apparenly having just realised Hermione was still there. "You can't tell anyone, you mustn't! You won't." Her words had a tone of desperation in them that was verging on madness, which caused the older witch to turn and run.

Hermione was shaking, images of a dark cell and approaching dementors crowding her head. Seeing her entire future disappearing along with the running witch, she did the only thing she could: The shaking in her arms stilled eerily as she turned her eyes directly on the fleeing witch and raised her wand. It was with a strange calm that she spoke the spell that would change her more than any before it.

"Avada Kedavra!"